Whispering Hope: A Journey Through Stroke Recovery

It is hard to believe that so many years have passed since Eddie had his stroke. In early March all those years ago, Eddie was critically ill—completely paralysed except for his eyelids. He could only communicate by blinking, and his prognosis was grim.

On the day we returned from Dubai, a doctor asked me what I wanted to happen if Eddie suffered another stroke or heart attack. I knew exactly what he was asking: Should we attempt resuscitation or not? I responded, "This is a man who walked up mountains." The consultant replied, "Well, he won’t walk up mountains again."

How does one make such a decision? How do you sit beside your child and condemn the person you love most in the world to death? After everything that had already happened, I was emotionally and physically drained—incapable of making even the most straightforward decisions, such as whether to shower or what to wear. And yet, here was a man asking me to make the most challenging choice of my life.

At that moment, my thoughts were painfully selfish. I considered my future caring for someone who was completely paralysed. He couldn’t stay in the hospital indefinitely. Our tiny home would become a hospital, and I would be his primary carer. How could I possibly do it? At that moment, I couldn’t.

Then my thoughts turned to Eddie—the action man who thrived on adventure, had camped on the snow line in winter, skied, canoed, climbed, cycled, laughed, and loved life. And I said, "He wouldn’t want to live like this." In my heart, I added, "And neither would I." In the weeks that followed, I found myself in a very dark place, and as a family, we even considered a journey to Dignitas.

However (my favourite word), if you have followed Eddie’s journey, you will know that his recovery has been miraculous. He can now walk a few steps indoors, despite the pain. He has been on holidays with The Calvert Trust, where he has been supported in many activities he loved before his stroke. Stroke recovery is unpredictable, and doctors must balance reality with managing expectations. But in Eddie’s case, they got it wrong.

In 2013, with a dedicated team around him, Eddie walked the last 500 metres of Mam Tor in Derbyshire. A journey that would usually take 20 minutes took him three hours, but he did it.

In March 2011, during a call from Eddie’s cousin Marcin in Poland, he shared an old Polish saying: "The last thing I will give up is HOPE."

Perhaps you are reading this out of curiosity. Or maybe you are reading this because your future feels overwhelmingly dark. I pray that you hear the still, small voice whispering hope.

Soft as the voice of an angel

Breathing a lesson unheard

Hope with a gentle persuasion

Whispers a comforting word

Wait till the darkness is over

Wait till the tempest is done

Hope for the sunshine tomorrow

After the darkness is gone

Whispering hope

Oh, how welcome thy voice

Making my heart

In its sorrow rejoice.